


Old Fashioned Boy

by Dorksidefiker



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorksidefiker/pseuds/Dorksidefiker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost is absolutely nuts about Mother Nature, but before he does <i>anything</i>, he needs to get her father's approval.</p><p>Shame daddy dearest is the Boogeyman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ... well, at least THIS Kink Meme fill actually has an end in sight.

The shirt was new. So were the pants.

It'd taken a bit of doing, but he'd convinced the yetis that it really wouldn't do to have a Guardian running around in ratty old leather pants and a hoodie. Of course, as soon as this little mission was done with, the new clothes would disappear until needed again. But today it was important that he make the absolute best impression that he could. Which meant new clothes, stiff with embroidery that mimicked the delicate frost patterns Jack often etched onto everything.

Really, it was all North's fault. Him and his stupid idea to throw the workshop open to every and any spirit that might want to attend his Post-Christmas feast. Three days of food, music, fun, and games. The perfect chance for everyone to get to know everybody else, so there would be no more spirits left totally alone for hundreds of years at a time. And it _had_ been fun; after defeating Pitch Black, Jack was the hero of the hour, and _everyone_ wanted to get a few minutes of his time.

By the second day, Jack had had enough. He was still getting used to having believers and to the other spirits actually wanting him around, and all the attention was starting to make him long for the solitary stillness of his little pond. He didn't really want to _leave_ , since he was having fun, but was a few minutes of peace and quiet that much to ask for?

He'd ended up disappearing into the bowels of the workshop, where the party had not yet spread. The few yetis who lingered there (already getting a start on next year's toys) paid Jack no attention, and Jack did them the same courtesy.

He wandered aimlessly through the twisting, turning labyrinth of the workshop, past rows of broken toys and fairy lights that blinked on and off with no real rhyme or reason. This was elf territory, but the whole screaming lot of them were upstairs, stealing food and terrorizing the unwary. Before Jack had made his escape, the elves had begun launching themselves down the ice slide he'd made, trying to catch hold of Sandy as he floated along, teasing them with cookies.

But it turned out the elves barracks weren't as empty as Jack had assumed. The sound of music drew his attention, beckoning him onward.

It wasn't _good_ music, not like the stuff playing upstairs, but what it lacked in quality, it more than made up for in enthusiasm. The tortured-cat wail of bagpipes cut through the air, accompanied by whistles, drums, and the ever present bells. No elf went without a bell. It was better to hear the accident prone little bastards coming than to let them sneak about in silence.

There was also laughter that had a decidedly non-elfish quality to it.

Jack followed the music until he finally stumbled on the source; the room was wreathed in Christmas lights, and the enthusiastic little elves were playing a wild jig, to the enjoyment of their small audience. A girl danced to the tune, light and graceful as a falling feather as her bare feet followed the erratic melody. Her dark green skirt and long black hair swirled and tangled about her as the tempo sped, faster and faster until the bagpipe player collapsed in a breathless heap, knocking over one of the drummers and sending the elves into confusion. The girl dropped gracefully to the floor, skirt pooling around her legs as she helped the bagpipe player back to his feet.

"Inhale, exhale... there we go."

Jack wasn't sure how long he stood in the shadows, just watching. Long enough for the musicians to sort themselves out, at any rate. He didn't know the girl, but that didn't mean much. Jack didn't know most of the spirits that had come to take advantage of North's hospitality. This one was lovely, laughing freely as the elves made fools of themselves for her pleasure and clamored over her for attention.

The one with the bagpipes inhaled deeply, lowering his face to the mouthpiece, and Jack tapped the end of his staff against the stone floor. Dozens of large elven eyes turned to Jack in various states of glower. The girl's expression went from happy to carefully guarded, and she remained where she was on the floor. Jack turned on his best smile (the one that had been known to knock Tooth right out of the air), and asked, "Is this a private party, or can anyone join?"

With an air of polite disinterest, she gathered tangled mass of her hair in one hand and pulled it back from her face. Her eyes were grey, and her nose was long and broad. Now that she wasn't smiling, it made her look haughty. "I don't imagine I could stop you from doing exactly as you please, Guardian."

"I think I've just been insulted," said Jack, feigning hurt as he pressed a hand to his chest and staggered forward. He collapsed dramatically, scattering a few of the elves. "I'm hurt! Mortally hurt!"

The girl failed to look impressed. "I wouldn't stay there too long," she said confidentially, bending over Jack. "I hear elves eat anything that doesn't run away fast enough."

A few of them gathered around, one perching on the girl's shoulder, and Jack thought he saw the flash of tiny knives. "Then I shall die and be eaten for the crime of having somehow offended you!" Jack offered with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"I'd leave him be, my darlings," the girl murmured to the elves. "Ham isn't good for you."

Jack retorted with a dramatic death rattle, shuddering before he lay still, watching the girl through his eyelashes. She ignored him, taking up a set of pan pipes and utterly failing to play any kind of recognizable tune.

"Orpheus you are not."

"He's an overrated hack with abandonment issues. I've always been more partial to Hod myself, to the surprise of absolutely no one."

Jack sat up on his elbows with a thoughtful little grunt. "And here I had you pegged for a summer spirit."

The girl gave Jack a long, searching look, her expression finally softening. "You have absolutely no idea who I am, do you?"

Jack just shrugged. "Like I said, I thought you were a summer. I'm pretty sure I know most of the spring and fall spirits by sight, if not by name." He sat the rest of the way upright and extended a hand. "Jack Frost, spirit of Winter, Guardian of Fun. But you already knew that."

Her grip was firm, and she smiled like a shark. "Mother Nature. Spirit of all seasons, daughter of Pitch Black. Which you really should have known before now."

"Does that mean you're the boss of me?" Jack asked, turning the last bit of information over in his head. He didn't let go of her hand.

"Mmhm." The smile widened, like she was _daring_ him to say something.

"You wanna dance?"

"If you think you can keep up."

 

And that had been that. Jack ended up spending most of the party lurking down there with Mother Nature and the elves. They didn't talk about Pitch or the Guardians. Mostly they talked about the weather (which was a seriously interesting topic if most of what you did involved making weather _happen_ ), and they danced. Jack emerged from hiding just long enough to keep people from coming to look for him.

Mother Nature took her leave before the party actually ended; she had duties to attend to, and wanted to avoid the rush. It didn't really matter; Jack was already thoroughly smitten.

There was just one thing he had to do before he could pursue things any further.

He needed to get Pitch Black's approval.


	2. Chapter 2

The important thing, Jack reminded himself, was to show now fear. And really, he _wasn't_ afraid of Pitch Black; he'd seen the King of Nightmares broken and defeated with his own actions. There was nothing Pitch could throw at Jack that he couldn't handle.

Except, he realized with cold dread, he wasn't coming to Pitch for a fight. He was there to ask Pitch's permission to _court his daughter_ , and Pitch already had good reason to hate Jack. Pitch was going to tell Jack _no_ , and of course Mother Nature would obey Pitch's wishes because he was her _father_ , and _Jack_ would have to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable-

Jack shook himself, then summoned up a patch of ice large and clear enough to serve as a mirror, checking to make sure the flight from North's workshop to the pit in the ground that lead to Pitch's lair hadn't ruined his new clothes.

"I should have gotten a haircut," Jack groaned, raking his hands through the offending locks in an effort to put them in order. His hair immediately sprang back into place, to his horror and annoyance. For a moment, he wished for his comfortable old hoodie, so easy to hide in.

This was going to be a disaster.

"Nut up, Jack." He forced himself to stand up straight and dropped into the lair of the Nightmare King.

 

A pregnant silence greeted Jack. Unseen eyes watched him from every shadow, angry and eager to pounce on even the smallest weakness.

"Pitch Black! I know you're here! I just want to talk!"

The shadows whispered and writhed, following Jack as he strode through the Boogeyman's lair, head held high and doing his best to exude confidence. He kept himself as relaxed as he could, careful not to point his staff at every shifting shadow. He wasn't there for a fight, and maybe it wasn't too late to make a good impression.

"It's about Mother Nature," he added. "Your daughter."

The susurration of the shadows ceased, and Pitch's voice seemed to come from everywhere when he spoke. " _Her_?" Something at the edge of Jack's vision moved, but when he looked there was nothing there. "And what would bring you here to speak with me about _her_ , Jack? Did she take some notice of you now that you're a Guardian, you bit of snow tossed about on an ill wind?"

Something skittered in the darkness.

"Perhaps she sent you to check on me. She does worry sometimes, the dear girl." Pitch sounded almost fond. "A loving child, in her own way."

"She's a good woman," Jack agreed. "And she deserves to be happy."

"Where are you going with this, Jack Frost?" Pitch asked, all fondness draining from his voice.

"I've come-" Jack coughed, fear forming a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. "I've come here to ask your permission to court Mother Nature." He was pleased to note that his voice didn't squeak once.

The shadows dropped away, leaving Pitch Black exposed as he stared at Jack with his golden eyes wide, lips peeling back from his teeth in a feral snarl. He was gripping his scythe tightly, and his expression morphed from feral to _murderous_ as he swung it at Jack. The winter spirit leapt out of the way just in time to keep from being bisected, but his new shirt was not so lucky. "Permission _denied_!"

It was, Jack decided, time to go. There was no wind in the realm of the Nightmare King, so he ran as fast as his legs could carry him as Pitch gave chase. Jack was pretty sure he could take Pitch in an actual fight most of the time... but he was not completely certain. Not on the Boogeyman's home turf, with him looking at Jack the way he was. Pitch's greatest weakness was a near pathological need to draw out the suffering of his victims, but in that moment Jack was completely sure that Pitch would kill him without wasting a single moment.

Something small and colorful leapt out from beneath one of the winding staircases with a shrill cry, the little bell at the end of it's hat jingling merrily as it landed on Pitch's face and bit his nose. Jack burst out of the Nightmare Realm, nearly running over Mother Nature before he brought himself to a stop. She glanced at him briefly before shoving him behind her as Pitch emerged, screaming like a damned soul while the elf continued to gnaw on his face.

"That. Is. _Enough_." Mother Nature took two steps forward and carefully detached the elf. Pitch looked as surprised by the turn of events as Jack felt, the murderous rage draining from his face as he tentatively reached out, long grey fingers smoothing down an errant lock of Mother Nature's hair.

"My dear girl," Pitch murmured, trying to hide his scythe behind his back. "What brings you here?"

Mother Nature smiled gently, cradling the elf in her arms. "I came looking for Jack."

Pitch glared at the winter spirit in question over the top of her head, and it was all Jack could do not to smirk back at him. "What could you possibly want with this ragamuffin, my dear?"

Mother Nature put the elf down and took Pitch's hand, leading him back to the dark pit that lead to his realm. "I'll tell you all about it later, but right now I need some time alone with him."

" _Alone_? With _him_?"

" _Yes._ " There was steel in her tone as she gently pushed her father back into his realm. For a moment, there was nothing but the jingle-jangle of the elf's bell.

"So-" Jack started. Mother Nature turned, her expression hidden behind her hair as she extended her hand to him.

"Fly with me."

Her palm was warm and dry against his, and she was as graceful in flight as she had been on the dance floor. They flew above the highest layer of clouds, until it was just them, the moon, and the distant stars. Mother Nature slipped her hand from Jack's, resting both hands on his shoulders instead. Jack put his arms around her waist as the fabric of his new shirt bunched between her fingers. Without warning, the wind stopped supporting Jack, leaving him dangling from Mother Nature's hands by his already tattered shirt and suddenly _very_ aware of how far away the ground was. He gaped at the nature spirit, painfully aware of the wrathful expression she wore.

"The elves told me you were going to ask Pitch for his permission to court me." Soft looking lips skinned back from sharp white teeth. "So I thought I should make something clear to you. I have neither sought nor required his permission in _anything_ for centuries. Only _I_ decide what I will do, and who I will do it with. Do I make myself clear?"

There was an ominous noise, like seams starting to rip. "Absolutely," he squeaked.

Mother Nature bent her head and leaned forward, kissing Jack. Her lips were just as soft as they looked. "Good."

"You are terrifying," Jack murmured against her mouth.

"I am my father's daughter."


End file.
